Irony, He Sneers
by Embracing Madness
Summary: Drabble-style. When Severus is unmasked as a spy, he expected to die. Now, facing his new, odd life hundreds of years in the future, he can't help wishing that it was as easy as that.
1. The Beginning and the End

It was a Potter who started it. James Potter, he of the cruel tongue and vicious mien. He rips away Severus' only friend, he _marries_ her, and finally kills her. Yes, Severus is under no illusions as to who is truly to blame here. Had he not shamed Severus on that horrible, fatal day, Severus would not have lost his temper and irreversibly severed his friendship with Lily. Had he not married her and spawned that foul little brat – _Lily's baby, little green-eyed child of prophecy_ - the Dark Lord would not have killed her. But Severus can tell this to no one, no one at all, because in their eyes, it is all _his_ fault. And so Severus mourns, and spies, and waits for the day when he can enact revenge upon all who wronged him.

Except the day never comes. Attack came, not from his jealous Death Eater cohorts, not from his vengeful Hogwarts colleagues, but from an insignificant Hufflepuff third-year, in the guise of Veritaserum in his food. Or perhaps he misspoke. Attack came from all sides, and the little third-year was just the final weapon. The little girl, though angry and blaming Severus for her parents' death, could not have procured the Veritaserum on her own, after all. And Severus, cautious and paranoid in his spy role, would not have fallen into the trap were it not for the machinations of the crazy Lestranges. In the end, the Dark and the Light worked together, for a brief, unknowing moment, to betray Severus, the traitor.

But no, he forgets one more player.

In the end, it is Severus' own words, Severus' own carelessness, who betrays him, the spy.

And when he is dragged, broken and bleeding, to the Veil under the Dark Lord's amused gaze, he can only choke on his blood and laugh at the irony, the bitter irony, of escaping his torment on this mortal plane, only by joining Black in his shadowy grave. And in the end, the only thing he can think of, the only thing he can cling to, is Albus' promise that the Dark Lord's power would end one day, by the hand of Potter. And he laughs, laughs as he is shoved through the Veil, laugh as he spins into dark oblivion, when he thinks of the Dark Lord, his murderer, his tormentor, being defeated by a Potter.

_How lovely, _Severus thinks, as at the last moment, as the Veil reaches for his body and envelops him in Death's embrace, he makes one, final effort to Apparate away from the menace. He fails, and laughs again as he falls. _How lovely to know_ _that it will be a Potter who finally ends it._

But then, such is the story of his life.


	2. Life From Death

There is nothing quite so jarring as waking in a world hundreds of years in the future. Severus doesn't care much, though, as he is just rejoicing at the fact that he woke up at all. He could kiss the researcher who accidentally triggered what seems to be an ejecting mechanism in the Veil – if the researcher could just stop babbling inanely at him about silly things like 'Harry Potter! You were his teacher, weren't you? Oh this is _wonderful!"_ As it is, he decides to keep quiet and glare the researcher into submission - a most successful strategy. All in all, his re-entrance into the world is going quite satisfactorily.

At least, it is until he hears a familiar, much-loathed voice snarl out, _"Snivellus."_ And he turns around to face the speaker, Severus reflects again on the irony of his life. Because, of course, _of course_ the Veil had to eject Black back into the world as well. There is a deadness in his heart, a fine trembling in his body, as he watches Black scream and rave and hurl imprecations at him. It's clear he's crazier and angrier than he was before. And so Severus turns his back upon the rising insults, forces himself to walk away from the brewing fight, for he will not deal with a crazed man, not when he hurts so much, not when he's so close to the brink of insanity himself. But as he stands closer to the researchers, attempting to block out Black's voice with the researchers' discussion of "That's nearly a hundred test subjects ejected already. Should we stop?" and "The people that the Veil is pushing out are getting increasingly more powerful magically! This is getting dangerous. We _need_ to stop!" he wonders tiredly if he could ever have a truly fresh, new start in life.

His gloominess dispels, however, at the sound of screams. Glancing back at the Veil, he gapes to see a mad-eyed, frothing wizard bellow incoherently and make a grab for a researcher's wand. Even as Severus steals another wand and pushes through the panicking throng of researchers and ex-Veil-inhabitants, the crazed wizard kills two people in quick succession. As Severus shoots a Disarming Spell at him, he thinks that perhaps he should feel fear at this. As Severus ducks and rolls away from the terrible green light, he thinks that perhaps he should feel wariness at taking on a wizard who's so clearly more powerful than he is.

But Severus feels none of this. He is consumed, instead, with sheer, brilliant exultation. As he dances through the barrage of spells, he laughs to feel the adrenaline running through his veins once more, laughs to be alive again, and free, free, free of meddlesome masters and terrible dark lords. He cannot seem to stop laughing, even as a spell hits him and burns his arm into boiling agony, even as he sees Black's crazed face sweep past him as he joins in the battle, even as Black's mad laughter twines with his own and rings around the rafters. And when he and Black stands over the wizard's smoking corpse, their eyes meet, for once not in a clash of will, but in shared camaraderie.

Their laughter echoes in the silent chamber long after they're led away.


	3. Different and Yet the Same

The world is different, and yet the same. Muggles have began to colonize the stars; wizards, not to be outdone, have followed suit. An enterprising Muggleborn had invented a wonderful new spell, a spell very much like Apparition, but so much easier, so much more reliable. With this discovery, traveling to the stars is suddenly all too possible, for one need fear no longer the dangers of getting splinched in the dark vastness of space. But Severus sees none of this, cares for none of this, not when he has so much trouble living on just one planet, in just one country.

* * *

><p>Trouble follows Severus wherever he goes. In the 150 years that he has been gone – <em>lost, lost behind the Veil, twisting, turning in the nothingness <em>– the barrier between Muggle – _no, not Muggle, how shocking, how old-fashioned, how derogatory, we now call them magically-challenged, Mr. Snape, you should know better, Mr. Snape - _and wizard seems to have dissolved so much more. Severus has no doubt that it is the work of the Muggleborns, the children of two worlds which have effected this change. They could not do so in his time, when the society was more stratified and he knew his place –_ lowest of the Muggles, lowest of the wizards _– but now, now things are _modernized, _now things have changed. The Muggleborns, the halfbloods, have come into their own at long last.

He, the Muggleborn, should find comfort in this. But he can only feel loss.

* * *

><p>And one day, he has had enough of his loss. The researchers and healers try to keep him for further study and experimentation; he silences their demands with threats of lawsuits. The historians try to keep him for further questioning and information; he sneers at their questions and talks ill of Potter whenever he can. Few others are interested in him, relic of the past that he is; he has nothing and no one to tie him to this new world, this unknown hell, where people dress differently and talk differently and even brew Potions in a new, <em>modernized <em>way – _cauldrons, Mr. Snape? Oh no, no, we don't use those, how terribly outdated _– and he'd never thought that he'd come to hate a word so much as _modernized, _but now he does. So he leaves the modernity, leaves the world, and settles in a quiet Muggle house, where at least the unfamiliarity is what he would expect from Muggles and the friendly looks hide no knowledge of his identity as a centuries-old spy. And so he lives and breathes and mourns through the days blurring together, until a loud knock on his door breaks the stillness of his Ministry-paid home. And as he stalks to the door and pulls it open, he thinks that he should be surprised to see Black's wild-eyed face glaring at him. He thinks that he should be shocked, when Black pushes past him with nothing more than a derisive sneer, when Severus himself stands back in silent welcome.

He should be. But he isn't. Because the world is different, and yet the same.


End file.
